


Christmas spirit in a bottle

by DaimeryanRei



Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: Christmas, M/M, Seasonal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-21
Updated: 2016-12-21
Packaged: 2018-09-10 23:21:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8943538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaimeryanRei/pseuds/DaimeryanRei
Summary: Just as Heero makes it back in time for the Christmas party, Duo goes missing…





	

Title: Christmas spirit in a bottle  
Fandom: Gundam Wing  
Pairings: Heero x Duo, mention of Zechs x Noin  
Genre: action, romance  
Warnings: shounen ai  
Summary: Just as Heero makes it back in time for the Christmas party, Duo goes missing…   
Author's note: the holiday in itself doesn't play a big part in the fic.

Key: ----- = scene change

\----------------------------

Heero Yuy stared at the barrel end of a shotgun and yawned. _I’m running late_ , he thought to himself. _Duo’s not going to be happy_.

“My operation was perfect,” the man in front of him, pacing back and forth, repeated for the umpteenth time. “It was flawless!”

Heero cracked his neck from left to right. Duo was never going to let him live it down that he managed to get captured. Well, in his defense, even a Perfect Soldier knew when he was outmatched against five guys with guns in all shapes and sizes. He had merely shrugged. He had faced worse. 

“Someone has ratted me out.” The man snapped his head to Heero, a crazed look in his eyes. “Who was it? You have to know who!”

“This is boring,” Heero said. “You asked me the same question over and over again. I don’t know the answer, as I’ve told you over and over again. How long do you want to continue like this?” He was prepared for a punch to the face, but it never came. Instead, the man cocked the shotgun.

“Who! Answer me!”

“Listen Rolsto, I don’t know,” Heero answered, tiredly. _Forget about Duo not being happy - he was going to_ kill _him!_ It was their turn to host the annual Preventers Christmas party and he’d gone mad with preparations since August. If it were up to him, he’d top Relena’s fancy shindig last year, at her penthouse in Brussels. The Queen of the World had outdone herself with the interior decoration and catering, everything was so elegant and perfect that it had made her feel guilty. 

In her defense, a lot of dignitaries and representatives of political factions had attended the party, so it hadn’t been a Preventers-only Christmas gathering. In private, she regretted that the party had lost the intimacy of celebrating the holiday with her friends, the people she knew best, but the former Gundam pilots had understood very well that she had other obligations and duties. No one blamed her or enjoyed the party any less, but this year, Duo wanted to return to the basics: a cozy, happy, fun and warm party with friends and coworkers. Their apartment would barely be able to house everyone he wanted to invite…

“… listening to me?” The cold, rough end of the shotgun pressed against his cheek. The barrel had been sawed off, and its harsh edges scratched his skin.

“Yes, I’m listening.” Heero suppressed another yawn. After all these years, who would’ve thought that hunting down run-of-the-mill criminals like Rolsto Veneman would be the most exciting part of his job? Perhaps the Preventers had done their job _too_ well, ridding Earth and the colonies of the most menacing people and factions, endangering the current peaceful societies. “You know, you brought this all upon yourself.”

“Bullshit,” Rolsto answered crudely. “I told you, my operation was perfect!”

“No, it wasn’t.” Heero turned his head a little. He’d better give this man his full attention, otherwise it could end badly. A criminal was a criminal. “You just got greedy. Smuggling weapons wasn’t enough for you, you also wanted the stuff.”

Rolsto licked his lips, but he didn’t answer. 

“I have to admit, disassembling the guns and ship them piece by piece, hidden in general consumer electronics, was pretty clever. The metal parts of the guns weren’t detected in the washing machines and refrigerators, and the electronic devices hitched a ride with printers and DVD players. Your clients only had to order the right goods, put everything together and voilà, instant weapon. Like I said, you just got greedy. All your electronics had to pass through customs. They work with detection dogs, you moron.”

“I’m going to blow your head off!” Rolsto’s eyes went back and forth, failing to focus.

“How much did you snort?” Heero asked sarcastically. “Are you your own best client?”

“I’ve got everything under control. I knew you were wrong from the start!”

“So that’s why you allowed me to work along with you for at least three months,” Heero said. Duo had sulked when he had accepted this mission. _You’ll never be home in time for Christmas_ , he had said. Heero had answered that it wouldn’t take that long to infiltrate a smuggling gang and bring them to justice. He’d been proven wrong; it had taken him considerably longer because of Rolsto’s paranoia and the mess the gang was in; many of the members tried to set up their own business and stabbed each other in the back as soon as they got the opportunity. Heero had never seen such a disorganized group before but still, they controlled an important smuggle route and were heavily armed and dangerous, not to mention the antics of their instable leader. Rolsto snorted again.

“Who are you working for? FBI, CIA, DEA..?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. I don’t know why you think _I_ ’m the one who knows who betrayed you.”

“Aha! So it _was_ betrayal! You admit it yourself!”

“What else are you going to call this fiasco? Your shipment was intercepted, and they were waiting for us at the pick-up-point, armed to the teeth.” Heero wiggled in his chair. The buffoons had used those annoying tie-wraps to bind his wrists together, and the material was cutting into his skin. He needed to buy himself some time. “And instead of scrutinizing your own men, no, you immediately assume that the person who was the last to join your gang, naturally had to be the traitor.”

Of course, he didn’t have Duo’s typical charm and his natural gift to talk his way out of every situation. Heero gritted his teeth. This time, Rolsto did deliver a punch, with the butt end of the shotgun. Pain exploded in his head and he saw stars; he didn’t bother to hide his reaction, moaning and groaning as he collected his bearings again.

Rolsto looked content at the impact of the blow, but quickly returned to his agitated, frantic state of mind. “So you think it was one of the boys,” he hissed at Heero, “you dare to suggest it was one of my loyal men?”

“Loyal?” Heero laughed out loud. “You’re a smuggler and a low-life criminal. Your boys are the same, if not worse; they use your products for themselves, they sell the goods you smuggle for a higher price to other parties… man, you’re so blind!”

“Shut up shut _up_!” Rolsto waved the shotgun around. “You’re a cop! Cops always talk shit like that!” He grinned all of the sudden. “You’re going to fetch a pretty price, I’m sure of it.”

Heero resisted rolling his eyes. This was taking too long. Why was he even trying to argue with this lunatic? Oh yeah, buying himself some time. He ran his nails over the plastic tie-wraps, searching for a weak spot. Duo was going to be so pissed. “Fetch a pretty price? You’re seriously considering holding me here for ransom?”

“I have to make up for lost profits,” Rolsto grinned. “I lost seven good men today, and my shipment of course.”

Heero kept his facial expression as neutral as possible while he fidgeted with the tie-wraps around his wrists. He wasn’t impressed with Rolsto’s loss of ‘seven good men’; just a bunch of lowlife criminals who made money off the back of others. They would serve their time in jail, but probably not learn much from their mistakes; the lure of making easy money would simply be too great. He was more annoyed that the local police force hadn’t been able to arrest all of the gang, leading up to his current situation. “You’re stupid,” he said bluntly. Just as he was about to say more, he heard a noise and a muffled scream.

“What was that?” Rolsto grabbed the shotgun with both hands, still aiming at Heero. 

“I think that’s the sound of your other good men, running for the hills,” Heero said. “Or…” another muffled scream and he knew what was going on, “… my friends have come to the rescue.”

“I knew it, I knew it!” Rolsto aimed the shotgun. “I don’t care what you are - you’re _dead_!” The door behind him slammed open, but he didn’t have time to turn around and look to see who entered. The gunshot echoed through the room and Rolsto’s eyes glazed over instantly. He dropped the shotgun and followed suit in a bizarre, slow-motion movement: first on his knees, his head rolling backwards, his arms next to his sides, and then he toppled over, sighing dramatically. Heero pursed his lips.

“Wind,” he said. 

Zechs Merquise calmly put his gun back into his holster and crossed the room with an elegance that didn’t even look out of place, in this grimy environment. His long, platinum blonde hair flowing behind him, Zechs closed the distance between them and tsk-ed. “You haven’t untied yourself yet?”

“I was _working_ on it,” Heero snarled in return. Stepping over Rolsto’s body, Zechs whipped out a small knife and cut through the plastic tie-wraps. Grunting, Heero massaged his wrists. “Was that really necessary?”

“He was about to blow your head off.” Zechs shot him an annoyed look. “I might not mind that much, but Une would kill me if I were to return you in pieces. Not to mention what Maxwell will do to me. He could kill me twice over, and I’m not exactly looking forward to that.”

“Fine, fine.” Heero got up from the chair and straightened himself. 

“So… party’s still going on at your place, right?”

“Right.” Heero walked towards the door. Armed men, the local police force, swarmed into the room. He didn’t look at them. “Did you get everyone?”

“Yes, everyone downstairs, along with twenty kilos of product.” Zechs frowned. “They were about to cut and distribute it.”

“Assholes.” Heero wanted to go home. He wanted to see Duo again and help him with the preparations for the Christmas party. With a firm stride, he went through the maze of corridors in the dilapidated building Rolsto and his gang had used as their lair, and took a deep gust of breath as soon as he was outside. Fresh air! Then, he turned around to face Zechs. “What are you doing here anyway? This was just a simple mission.”

Zechs shook his head. “It turned out that the police officials you contacted to alert them about Rolsto’s activities, were dirty themselves,” he said. “That was why Rolsto managed to escape in the first place. Apprehending the others was just for show, to avoid blowing their own cover. They hadn’t counted on some of the guys changing allegiances when facing jail time. We picked up on the contradictory messages and when you failed to call in, we connected the dots.”

Heero muttered something unintelligible under his breath. Zechs misinterpreted his growling.   
“There’s no way you could’ve known, man. It was the mayor who asked for our help, who didn’t know either his chief of police was corrupt. You could’ve ended up in even hotter water.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” Heero glanced at his wrists, his skin still red and raw from the tight tie-wraps. “Let’s just go home.”

Zechs agreed and steered Heero towards a black sedan, a non-descript car like a dime a dozen. While the police force dealt with the rest, Heero got in and settled into the backseat, not in the mood for talking. Zechs picked up on his reclusive mood and didn’t start up conversation; it was time to go home.

\-----------------------------------

“We’re here.” Zechs halted the car. “Are you all right?” He asked, turning around in his seat.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Heero blinked. It wasn’t usual for him to fall asleep like that. He’d been under more stress than he thought. He longed for a hot shower.

“I’ll report back to Une,” Zechs said.

“Thank you,” Heero said. “For everything,” he added, albeit a bit sourly. He truly was grateful for Zechs’ intervention, but he knew he could’ve saved himself, given just a little bit more time. It was now over and done with; all he wanted was that hot shower and a kiss from his lover, of course. The apartment building wasn’t that far from Preventers HQ and had top-notch security, courtesy of Heero’s own talent for writing infallible, impossible to crack software. A retina scan, a thumb print and a quick body scan later, he found himself the luxurious lobby and in front of the elevator. He pushed the button. He had no luggage, not even a cell phone; he had brought only the barest of clothes and toiletries, and the cheap phone and crappy gun he had carried for this mission, had gotten lost during the botched smuggling operation. It wasn’t like he had lost anything of vital importance; the cell phone wasn’t his private phone and if the gun was to be recovered, Zechs would take care of it.

Shower. Duo. Kiss. He didn’t need keys to open the door to their apartment; another retina scan and a voice check confirmed him as Heero Yuy and he was allowed to enter. It was dark inside. That was the first disappointment. No Duo who raced around the corner and jumped him. That was the second disappointment. What was going on? Heero turned on the lights. Apparently, Duo had finished decorating the Christmas tree, including a myriad of neatly gift-wrapped presents at the base, as well as the living room. None of the lights were on, and where was Duo?

“Duo?” No answer. Slightly worried, Heero opened the doors to every room in the apartment, and when he checked their secret armory, a hidden vault in their walk-in closet, he noticed the Sig Sauer was missing, Duo’s favorite piece. Something had come up. What had happened? The apartment was incredibly tidy; Duo had been hounding him about picking up after himself before he left for the mission, as he wanted everything to be in pristine order. A heavy fear overpowered him. Had Duo… left? Had he walked out on him, because he hadn’t been that overly enthusiastic about Christmas, and saw the party more like an invasion instead of a fun time together with friends and colleagues?

No, Duo wasn’t like that. If he were to throw a tantrum, he would do so in Heero’s face - he wasn’t shy about speaking up his mind. Frantically, Heero searched the apartment all over, twice; no Duo. His mind went into mission-mode. No signs of forced entry. No signs of a struggle. Everything was in place, nothing was missing, except for the Sig Sauer. Duo’s clothes were all there, his vintage vinyl records collection he would never part from, his laptop… his laptop. Heero frowned. Duo never left his laptop on the coffee table. He walked over to it and tapped a button; the black screen immediately came alive, showing a still of Duo. A video? Heero clicked to play it.

“Heero, I hope to be back before you’ve finished up your mission. Une called for an urgent case and I took it, since you were still gone. Don’t worry, it won’t take me longer than a couple of days. The fridge’s stocked, the decorations are up and the tree looks amazing. So wait up for me if you’re already back, all right?” He blew him an exaggerated kiss and then reached forward to shut off the camera. He had put the video into a loop, so it started all over again. “Heero, I hope to be back before…”

He shut the laptop down. An urgent case? He checked his private cell phone; no missed messages. He dialed Duo’s number. No answer. Something wasn’t right. The timestamp on Duo’s video message was three days ago. That was far too long for an ‘urgent case’, especially if Duo had expected to be back already. Heero dialed the office, using his special entry code to reach Une’s desk directly. No one answered. He checked his watch. It was after business hours; even so, Une would often stay longer. He grunted in frustration and dialed Zechs’ number next.

“Wind here,” he answered.

“What do you know about Duo’s urgent case?” Heero barked.

“Say what? Heero, I’m on my way home…”

“Return to my apartment immediately,” Heero commanded. He wasn’t superior to Zechs, but he had the sinking feeling that he wasn’t going to be able to deal with this on his own. Something had gone wrong, something unexpected had happened. “I need your help,” he said, softening his voice. 

“What’s going on?”

“I’m not sure,” Heero admitted, “but come back. Duo’s not here, and I’m afraid that something got out of hand… and he got caught in the middle.”

“I’ll be there shortly.” Zechs severed the connection. It was strange to think that once they had been outright enemies, their views and beliefs completely opposite, and now they were colleagues, working together or solo on missions. Heero was still in mission mode. He retrieved his preferred handgun from the secret vault: a Ruger LC9s semiautomatic, and he equipped himself with the accompanying holster. He also retrieved his own laptop, booted it up and activated the search signal. When they moved in together, Heero had gifted Duo a Breil chronograph watch; he didn’t want to accept it at first because he thought it was too expensive as a gift, but Heero had insisted. 

He had confessed that it contained a GPS tracking device, so he would always know where Duo was, provided he was wearing the watch. Duo had been apprehensive at first, saying that Heero doubted him to take care of himself, but through the years, especially with their dangerous and high-classified missions for the Preventers, Duo had appreciated the watch more and more. Heero smiled to himself when the software on the laptop picked up on the signal infallibly. Now he had at least an inkling as to where to look for him.

The buzzer of the front door startled him. Heero quickly reacted and opened the door, revealing Zechs.

“What happened to Maxwell?” He said, voice serious, not beating around the bush. Heero told him about the video message and the time stamp, the missing Sig Sauer and the closed office. Zechs called Lucrezia; she was fairly close to Une and she could sometimes provide more information about certain cases. Unfortunately, she didn’t know anything about an urgent case involving Duo, but she promised to contact Une.

“What’s our next step?” Zechs asked, as he relayed his girlfriend’s message to Heero.

“I have a lock on his signal,” Heero said. “He’s two hours away from here. We’ll be able to pinpoint his location when we close in on the signal.”

“Let’s go,” Zechs said and together they left the apartment, returning to the black, non-descript sedan. Heero didn’t mind that Zechs drove the car. That left him a perfect opportunity to prepare himself mentally for what was coming. The silence in the car was slightly tensed, but not uncomfortable. Zechs showed the same mission-mode look on his face as Heero. Duo was his colleague too, and if he was in danger… Heero focused on the signal, blinking as a red dot on his laptop screen. 

“Go west,” he said. Zechs concentrated on the road. It was normal rush hour, and traffic was dense. The highway lanes were packed with cars, commuters on their way home. As it was dark early in this time of the year and a fog was beginning to form, causing the traffic to slow down. Frustrated, Heero kept staring at the screen. The signal blinked at him, unmoving. Duo stayed in the same position. It didn’t have to mean anything, but he was getting worried.

“Maxwell can take care of himself,” Zechs suddenly spoke up. “He’s not a damsel in distress. Though I admit that it’s not like him to take so long for an urgent case, if the timestamp on that video is correct… but we don’t know the details about the mission, so…”

“I know he’s not dependent on me,” Heero said. “Lucrezia doesn’t need you as her knight in shining armor either.”

“Touché.” Zechs grinned nonetheless, albeit without any humor to it. “We’re all very independent, but sometimes we need a little help.”

“I thought I had everything under control,” Heero said, not taking his eyes off the screen. “Rolsto could’ve killed me if I had taken a few seconds longer to free my hands.”

“That’s the downside of this job,” Zechs mused. “There’s excitement and adrenaline, and the fact that we serve and protect the world, but on the other hand… a few seconds is all what it takes to make a difference.”

Heero nodded. “Go to the right.”

“I know your software is all but perfect,” Zechs muttered, “but are you sure this is correct?”

Heero looked outside the window. Ever since they had left the highway, they had crossed through suburbs until they ended up in a very posh neighborhood. Audis, Rolls Royces and Mercedes Benzes were parked in front of villas and outrageous mansions. The only people out on the streets were private security guards; Heero recognized them by their posture and their aggressive patrolling of the area they were supposed to guard. All of the houses were decorated, one even more abundant and decadent than the other, in a hysterical, silent race to top the neighbor. It was such a difference from the dilapidated building Heero had lived in while infiltrating Rolsto’s gang, that it was almost a culture shock to him. He stared at the laptop screen again; yes, this was the right place. Duo’s Breil had to be here.

“Park the car,” he said curtly and Zechs followed suit. He wormed the sedan between a Mercedes and a McLaren. Heero synchronized the signal on his laptop with his cell phone and checked if the Ruger was still in place. They exited the car and followed the signal to another posh villa, but this one wasn’t decorated; it wasn’t lit either.

“No one home?” Zechs’ hand went to his own gun. 

“Do you know who owns this house?”

“Does it look like I come here often?”

Heero glared at him. “Why don’t you try to reach Une or Lucrezia again? Then you can ask about the house as well.”

“Aye aye, captain.” Zechs fell back, keeping an eye on his vicinity. Heero approached the house on his own, his eyes adjusting to the darkness surrounding it. He carefully took the steps leading up to the door. It was closed. He had come prepared and took out his lockpick tools. In the vague distance, he could hear Zechs’ voice, talking calm and even. He could also hear Christmas carols, sung at the neighboring mansion; someone was playing the piano. Heero focused on the task at hand. With a few twists and turns, he managed to pick the lock and he pushed down the door handle. He put the lockpick tools back in his pants pockets and pulled the Ruger from its holster. Heero pushed the door open with his shoulder, so he had his hands free to handle the gun. He went inside. 

It was pitch dark. The only sound was his breathing; regular and calm. He had more than enough experience as a former Gundam pilot and a Preventers agent to deal with stressful, dangerous situations. Adrenaline rushed through his body and he smelled the distinct scent of dried blood. _Duo_. His senses keen and sharp, he progressed further into the house. He could discern the outlines of the furniture in the living room; through the large window panes, the Christmas lights from the neighboring houses shone upon the objects. He came across the first body, behind one of the sofas, and quickly turned it over. He didn’t recognize the man. Heero checked his watch again. 

He was at the right spot, but Duo was nowhere to be seen. The second body was ahead of him, next to a side table. This guy was still clenching his gun; a Glock 19. Both men were killed by a single gun shot to the head; the precision matched his own. It had to be Duo. His urgent case had been an assassination mission. The guilt was overwhelming. Usually, he was the one to be asked for such missions; but because he, Heero, had mucked it up with that insignificant smuggling gang, Duo had taken a case that had gone far above his head. _No. Don’t draw conclusions yet. Focus_. He ventured further into the house. Did Zechs follow him? He didn’t hear footsteps, or any other sound for that matter. Two people were dead. Who were they? 

He searched the entire ground floor, and Zechs joined him in the kitchen. He shook his head at Heero’s questioning eyes; no news from Lucrezia. Silently and thoroughly, they combed through the kitchen and the adjacent pantry. Heero pointed upstairs and Zechs nodded. The tall Preventer moved towards the staircase. He put his foot on the lowest step and climbed up, gun at the ready. Heero went downstairs. The temperature dropped significantly as he descended into darkness, and another distinctive smell hit his nose: alcohol. Wine. It had to be a wine cellar. 

There was no light here at all and Heero had no other choice but to turn on his flashlight. He couldn’t see where he was going, and he wasn’t going to give any enemy lurking behind crates of wine the advantage of him being disorientated. A large black mass in front of him made his heart skip a beat. The relief was huge when he saw that it was way too large to be Duo - this man packed some serious muscles, but he hadn’t been able to defend himself from gunshots. Heero continued and a sloshing sound under his boot told him that he had stepped into a pool of liquid. He could quickly deduct it was wine, not blood; the alcohol fumes increased. There had been a serious fight here. He shone with his flashlight from left to right and as he was searching, he heard a sound. A rat? No. A soft, gasping sound. A wheeze. Heero decided to call out Duo’s name. If there’d been someone in this cellar who wanted to kill him, he could’ve done so a dozen times over. This mansion was deserted, safe for the dead bodies upstairs.

“Duo,” he said out loud, but not yelling or screaming. “Duo, are you here?” He waited. Silence. No, wait - he heard something. He couldn’t identify the nature of the sound or where it was coming from.

“Duo? Is that you?” he asked superfluously. “Make more noise! Where are you?” He strained his ears. Yes, there was it again. A tapping noise… glass on concrete. Heero focused on the tapping. Had Duo been in this cellar all this time? “Duo?” His flashlight revealed an onslaught of broken bottles, the wine pooling all over the floor. The tapping had stopped, but it was no longer necessary. Duo was sitting on the floor, in the sea of wine, his right hand limply in his lap, his left hand clutching a shard of glass, scratching over the concrete floor. He showed Heero a sheepish smile as soon as the harsh, yellow light shone upon his face.

“Duo!” Heero stormed forward, almost dropping his flashlight with his brusque movement. “God! Are you all right?”

“I got him,” Duo said, leaning into Heero, his bloodied forehead leaving a smear on Heero’s cheek. “I got him good, you know.”

“How long have you been sitting here?” Heero put his gun back into the holster and used his free hand to check Duo’s body all over. Gun wound to the shoulder, but the bullet hadn’t penetrated the bone, fortunately. His clothes were soaked from the waist down and Heero hissed when shards of glass got stuck in his skin. Duo had almost been buried by bottles of wine and he could see how: someone had pushed one of those large, wooden wine racks on top of him. Trapped by the heavy structure, Duo was sitting amidst a sea of broken glass and wine, unable to move. 

“Dunno,” Duo answered. “I had enough to drink, though.” His speech was slightly slurred and he rolled his head from side to side.

“You’re wasted.” Heero frowned, but not at Duo. The alcohol fumes were so intense that it made him feel light-headed too. 

“Party,” Duo said and he chuckled, but it sounded miserably. 

“Let’s get you out of here.” Heero put the flashlight down and gripped the wine rack tightly. He pushed, and groaned at the heavy weight. Drawing upon his strength, he pushed the structure out of the way, eliciting a relieved, yet painful gasp from Duo. “Your leg?”

“I cannut feel ut,” Duo said and merely shrugged, then grunted as he was painfully reminded of the shot wound in his shoulder. 

“I’ll call an ambulance.”

“But itz Chrismas!” 

“Ambulance,” Heero said sternly. The next second, they both squinted as bright light flooded the cellar. 

“At least the electricity is working,” Zechs said, “even though I don’t know why it was turned off.”

“I got him!” Duo cried out. “Fuck!”

Zechs looked at Heero. “What’s going on?”

“I found him like this.” He turned off his flashlight. “He was trapped under that thing.” 

Zechs whistled at the heavy oak wood wine rack, then shook his head at the giant mess of broken bottles. “So many good soldiers lost.”

“Do you mind?” Heero snarled. His head hurt. If he was reacting so badly to the alcohol fumes, how could Duo withstand it all? No wonder he was sort-of drunk; he hadn’t eaten in quite a while either. “We have to call an ambulance. There was no one upstairs?”

“A very frightened young girl,” Zechs said. “She’s not going anywhere. I have to confirm her identity, but I guess the dead guys were her kidnappers and Duo had been assigned to take them out. We’ll get the details later, Heero. Let’s get everyone to safety first.”

“Agreed.” Heero slipped his arms under Duo’s and very carefully, lifted him off the floor. The poignant scent of the different wines and alcohol overpowered everything else; Heero wanted to get the hell out of here, put Duo in the shower and clean him up, then tuck him into bed.

“Party,” Duo said as he clung to Heero. “What time izit?”

“Time for you to sleep,” he answered. “You…”

“Fuck,” was all that Duo said as he put his head on Heero’s shoulder and started to snore.

\-------------------------------------------

“Twenty million,” Lady Une said as she handed Heero the file. “In unmarked, sequential bills. If the Whitestones didn’t pay up, they’d ship her home piece by piece.”

“Poor girl.” Heero opened the paper file and leafed through it. “Christine Whitestone, heiress to the Whitestone Diamonds empire. No wonder they were after her.”

“We both thought it would be a quick and simple sniper job,” she admitted. “The kidnappers weren’t particularly smart; we discovered their hideout three hours after the kidnapping.”

“It wasn’t so smart to use the residence belonging to the rivaling diamond company,” Heero snorted at the stupidity. “The only residence that wasn’t decorated for Christmas.”

“They probably thought they could pass it off as ‘nobody being home’,” Une said. “But the only thing they achieved, was that they stood out even more.”

Heero handed the file back to her. He wasn’t really interested in the details, now that everything was done and over with. The girl was fine, the kidnappers had been taken out and the mastermind who hired them, had been arrested. He went over to Duo’s bed and brushed a few wayward strands out of his face. Duo pursed his lips. “I want a kiss.”

“Again?” Heero was happy to comply, obviously. Une heaved a dramatic sigh. 

“I hope that the party’s still on?” she asked.

“You bet,” Duo interrupted the kiss to show her a wide grin, only to grimace the next moment. He had a full-blown hangover headache and light and sound hurt his eyes and ears. 

“I don’t think so,” Heero said sternly. “You need to rest and recover. I don’t want…”

Duo pouted. “Oh come on now, don’t be such a mood killer. The party’s tomorrow, I’ll be perfectly fine by then!”

“The doctor said that you should take it easy,” Heero pointed out. “You suffered a gun wound…”

“Flesh wound.”

“Your leg…”

“Nothing’s broken.”

“Dehydration…”

“Pretty ironic, considering I was surrounded by wine.”

“Hangover…”

“Just give me a cup of coffee, extra strong.”

Heero mimicked Une’s dramatic sigh. “Fine, fine, keep your goddamn party then.”

“Heero always starts to swear when he has to admit defeat,” Duo couldn’t help but grin. He quickly pecked him on the cheek. “Thank you for rescuing me, oh mighty handsome prince.”

“But he’s right about one thing, though,” Une said, “you need to rest and no ifs and buts about it, agent Maxwell.”

“Very well.” Duo shifted his position and pulled the sheets and blankets up to his chin with his good hand. “Better?”

“Better.” Heero returned the kiss on his cheek. 

“I’m sorry,” Duo mumbled.

“Huh? About what?”

“I really hoped to be home in time... you know, before you would return. I left the video message just in case…”

“And I’m glad you did. I would’ve gone crazy not knowing what was going on. Don’t feel bad. You took out three kidnappers; you couldn’t predict that you had to chase the last one into the wine cellar and that he would throw a wine rack on top of you.”

“I’m still sorry,” he mumbled again. 

Heero nuzzled him. “How about… after Christmas and the New Year’s celebration…”

“Desk job?” Duo asked.

“Desk job,” Heero said. Duo’s eyes slid close and he was asleep within seconds. Heero tucked him in further, avoiding touching his tender shoulder. 

“You know I’ll have to deny that request,” Une said before he was done.

“Don’t worry,” Heero said. “We decide on desk jobs every year. You know how well that goes.”

She looked relieved, but remained professional yet friendly. “If you truly decide on desk jobs...”

“We’ll let you know.” Heero wouldn’t have hesitated to tell anyone else to get lost, but Lady Une was his boss. She picked up on his silent hint, though. 

“I’ll see you at the party,” she said, “and of course, back in action next year.”

“I’ll give Zechs a call to thank him,” Heero said. His fellow Preventer had taken care of all the paperwork and his assistance had been very valuable. 

Une nodded. “He’ll appreciate it.” Without another word, she got up and left the hospital room. 

Heero sat down next to the bed and picked up a book from a huge stack that Une had brought over. He didn’t want to read or think about mission reports for now, he didn’t want to think about smugglers, kidnappers, Preventers or anything else but Duo, asleep and safe, and his own rest. He settled into his seat and opened the book. Tomorrow was the Christmas party, and he was looking forward to it. Maybe this year… they could settle on desk jobs after all? Quiet and cozy? Comfortable and relaxing… his lips curled up in a knowing smile. Nah. Too little excitement. The world wasn’t safe yet, not even at Christmas. He would be here to protect the innocent, with Duo by his side. That was all that mattered.

\--------------------------------------


End file.
